Casey's Delicate Problem
by Basched
Summary: Colonel John Casey has a problem and his only option is to go to the doctor. He's not happy when its a Doctor he knows. Silly oneshot. AUish. T for some subject matter. Pairing: Well...you can take a guess. XD


_Author's Note: Okay, woke up at 10am this morning after having this EXTREMELY vivid dream about John Casey. When an idea so perfect and clear comes to you in such a way you cannot ignore it. I sat down at my laptop at 10.05 am and began this very story. Apart from the usual distractions and my current Friend's marathon (I'm so sad!!!!) nothing really stopped me from getting it finished. I can say they are both In Character and OOC in this, and I'm so proud of the end result. Now after stating that, I hope other people will like it, or then I'll be really popular wont I?! _

_So please, enjoy and take/not take this one shot seriously and tell me what you think! XD _

_**Casey's Delicate Problem**_

He didn't want to do it. He quite adamantly refused to talk to anyone when the problem arose, because it was a delicate situation and he just wasn't comfortable. John Casey's stubbornness and usual _"I can deal with it myself"_ approach wasn't working out like he had planned. He had tried everything he could think of, but nothing was relieving the incessant and niggling agony.

The infuriating problem got worse and it reached a point where he had to swallow his damned pride and get help from a professional.

The Colonel had asked for some personal time off and booked an appointment with the Doctors not far from his apartment complex. He hated going to the Doctors, not because of the Doctors themselves, John thought they did a good job; but when it came to discussing personal issues, especially when they were _HIS_ personal issues, then Casey didn't like to.

He was a private man, no one needed to know everything about him, nor would he ever make it easy for others to find out. Sure Chuck and those cronies at the Buy More kept enquiring as to what he did in his personal life but John never revealed anything.

When he was with the Marines it was different. Your life depended on your men and vice versa, honour and trust between such a close unit of brothers was vital. They didn't sit around drinking tea and discussing their problems over biscuits and cake but John had always been able to confide in his buddies.

Where were Zane and Rawlins when he needed their advice? Oh yeah, probably out on a mission on the opposite side of the world whilst he was still stuck in Burbank.

He was still in good old Burbank. But now he was actually stuck in a noisy waiting office with a crying child screaming in his ear and the sound of sick people coughing and hacking up phlegm. Someone sneezed and Casey got the spray of it on the back of his neck.

"Cover your damned mouth!" he growled, turning round to the frightened teen that then cowered up to his friend. "Would you like it if I came and sneezed over you, you scrawny assed…."

The child sitting on her mother's lap took the screaming to a higher level. It wailed and pitched so high that John's left eye began to twitch uncontrollably. He couldn't stand it.

He tried to be patient. He really did. Other people were sick but he had been waiting for over an hour and that child hadn't stopped screaming. It wasn't because the child was sick, it was because the kid just wanted to go and play in the crèche. The mother had nagged and whined at the child yelling she had to sit on her lap and_ "damned well behave!"_ The poor little thing was bored. John didn't blame her, if he were forced to listen to that woman's irritating nasal voice he would want to go and play in the crèche as well.

"Lady…let your daughter play in the damned play area." he growled, after a further fifteen minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of him being called to see the doctor. The mother looked at him, ready to put up an argument or at least try to say _"Who the hell do you think you are, don't tell me what to do with my child!"_ But when she met that deep angry stare, when she heard the grinding clench of his teeth and the growl in his throat, when she saw the curled up fists and the muscles in his arms twitch; she let her daughter slip off her lap. The girl immediately stopped crying and beamed a happy smile at John, who returned the gesture.

The girl ran over to the play area and started using the colouring crayons on the paper instead of playing with the many loud toys littering the little "pen." After another fifteen minutes of blissful silence, John felt pleased that the girl was happy. It was all she wanted to do, sit and draw.

However that happiness didn't last long for Casey, because his own personal problem came back. The little girl issue had distracted him from his discomfort but he now remembered why he was in this damned place and his foul mood increased.

What was the point in booking a time for an appointment when you were still waiting almost two hours past that set time? Why when he came on time for his appointment did those who arrived late get to see the doctors before him?

John now wished he had gone to the NSA doctor instead. As a colonel and on a special mission there would have been no time at all for waiting, as the doc would come to him and seen him personally. But the nature of the problem made him think otherwise.

Seeing a civilian doctor made more sense. It would be a practitioner that in all likelihood he would never ever have to meet again and that eased him somewhat.

Eventually, after a further thirty minutes John was called through to the Doctor's office.

He rose from his chair. Carefully.

Then slowly and with great effort and clenched buttocks, he shuffled towards the Doctor's office. The little girl waved to him from the crèche and he wiggled his fingers back at her, but the smile he gave was forced and as agonizing as the pain throbbing between his legs.

The sniggering laughs of the two teenage boys tempted Casey greatly to take out his gun and scare them both to the point they shit their pants, but he thought better on it.

He just needed to see the doctor, get diagnosed and hopefully get something to put on it that will ease his pain. Walking down the corridor Casey became eager and determined to get his problem sorted, but that bright light at the end of the tunnel faded when he saw the name on the door.

"Oh no. Hell no."

Casey was not going in that office and discussing his private intimate problems with _this_ doctor. He was going to go back to his apartment and call for the NSA medic. He turned and was just about to head out of the surgery when a smiling nurse appeared behind him.

"It's okay, you can go in." The young woman flashed doe eyes at him, smiling and trying not to blush. She then moved round him, brushing up against his leg, and opened the door.

It was definitely too late now.

The Doctor looked up from the desk and saw him.

"John?! Is that you?"

_No, _thought Casey. _It's a figment of your imagination; right now I'm at home sitting in my lounger with a good glass of scotch and listening to some music. _

"Come on in! Take a seat! If you've got a problem then I would be only too happy to help solve it!"

There was no backing out now. John shuffled through the doorway, giving the still lusting nurse a disgruntled snarl before slamming the door behind him. It was so agonizing and embarrassing knowing the doctor was watching him sink into the chair opposite the table, it was also infuriating that it had to be this particular doctor. Out of all the doctor's in the whole of this crappy little Burbank town, it had to be this one.

"What are you doing here?" he grunted looking anywhere but directly at the smiling medic.

"There was a programme I was asked to participate in. For one week I work in a General Practioners office whilst someone from this surgery works some shifts at the hospital. It's only tempory but an interesting experience. Never thought I would like this side of medicine, but it's proving to be quite a blast. Then…I get a visit from you! John, dude, how AWESOME is that?"

Doctor Devon Woodcomb raised his hand up for a hi-five but when he saw the angry death glare he backed down and took on a more serious attitude.

"John…I am a professional in the field of medicine. There is no need for you to feel uncomfortable about this. I will keep everything said in here in the strictest confidence. I promise, dude."

"Its nothing." said Casey, cupping himself and wincing at the sensitive pain that burned there. "I can just go and…"

"John have you got a problem with your man parts?"

"You WHAT?!"

Devon nearly toppled off his chair from the force of that yell, but he got up and stood a bit further away from the increasingly angry NSA agent.

"Colonel…dude…I noticed the way you walked in here, how painful it was for you to sit down and seeing the way you're holding yourself I'm guessing that you have a problem with your genitals."

This was not what John wanted to discuss with Doctor Awesome. He just couldn't, he didn't want to talk about his personal and private things with this jock doc, it wasn't right.

"I'm going to leave now." Casey said growling with utter contempt under his breath. "I'm not….talking to you about it."

"Hey! John…is it because I know you? Is it me that makes you uncomfortable?"

It was that reason, along with a whole mess of others reasons why John didn't want to tell Devon about his problems. The surgeon sighed and gently eased back into his chair. Using his computer, he brought up John's medical files. Knowing that they were not his real files and were only loosely based on his NSA records, Devon prepared to take down the details.

"Look." Devon breathed out heavily and became deadly serious. "I can help. I am doctor; please put your trust in my training, like I put mine in yours. You've saved my life on numerous occasions, allow me to help you."

Thinking logically, Casey came to the conclusion that perhaps (_JUST_ for now) it would be acceptable for the Jock Doc to assist with his predicament. The sensitive pain on his groin was being far too persistent and he was slowly losing his ability to keep calm about it. To call an NSA doctor now would only make this damned situation last longer. The Colonel had to face the facts. If he wanted it sorted out quickly, allowing Doctor Woodcomb to help would speed things along. He grunted and bobbed his head in reluctant agreement. Devon smiled and adopted an even more professional approach towards his "friend."

"Only on these conditions will I allow you to aid me." said Casey, his hand feeling round his waist to his back where Devon knew he kept his gun hidden. "I'm not going to take off any of my clothes."

"But how am I supposed to…?"

"You will only ask appropriate questions and I will answer them accordingly. From that alone you will make your diagnoses."

"It won't be an accurate one unless I see the problem, dude."

"You will _NOT_ call me dude, John-meister or other such names during this consultation."

"Sorry, John."

"Also I expect you to uphold your oath and keep my condition between us."

"I will. You don't need to remind me."

"Good. I don't want to have to resort to…"

There was the click sound of a gun being armed.

With the threat made clear, Devon Woodcomb then settled down for the most bizarre and awkward session he had ever had in all his years as a medical practitioner.

"Right. So what is the problem?" he asked noting that Casey was now staring at the picture of Devon doing a sky dive on the wall.

John sighed, how he wished he was jumping out of a plane with his buddies rather than talking to Devon about his intimates. He took in a few deep breaths and described his problem.

"Right on the end." he said. "Right…there on my…"

"Penis?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of pain is it?"

"It burns, itches…it feels likes someone has shoved a red hot needle through it." John shuddered.

"And when did these symptoms begin?" asked Devon.

"Last night. It wasn't too bad then, but it got considerably worse this morning."

"Very well. John, when was the last time you had sexual intercourse?"

It was a valid question, but Casey reacted a little badly to it. The arm of the chair he was sitting on snapped off under the intense pressure his squeezing hand applied to it, but as soon as the wooden arm crumpled from his hand to the floor, his furious rage changed to a peculiar shyness. This was definitely a subject that John didn't want to talk to Devon about.

Casey noticed that despite Devon's professional face, his entire body language screamed with unease and discomfort at having to ask about his sex life.

"Last night." John replied, looking at Woodcomb for the first time, directly in the eyes. "Just after dinner."

"According to your file…" Devon tore his awkward gaze away from John and went back to the computer. "Which I'm guessing does have some true facts about your medical history, is that you don't have any allergies."

"That is true." Casey replied.

"Your last physical was?"

"Two weeks ago by the NSA medical team."

"Clean bill of health I presume? No sexually transmitted diseases or other…."

"Everything is fine." he seethed. "I passed with no problems."

"And…well I'd imagine…._she…_has clean bill of health too?"

"Yes."

That yes was spoken with such restraint. They weren't here to discuss her.

"So did you and….she do anything that differs from your usual sexual…?"

Both men had to look away from each other.

"No. We didn't. Move away from this line of questioning, Doc. Now."

"I just need to ask a couple more….did you use condoms?"

"Do I have moron written on my forehead? Do I look to be the sort of idiot that wouldn't use them?!"

Devon shook his head.

"Well…John…did you use your usual brand?"

John felt like getting up and throttling him, but again that solution would prove non-productive because his penis problem still wouldn't be solved. He needed it to be solved.

Thinking back on last night, Casey recalled rushing out of the restaurant in a desperate hurry. Getting back to her apartment, he found out that Chuck had somehow gotten hold of his wallet in the past (on a mission probably) and taken his only condom. Upon interrogation of the Intersect, John learnt that Chuck had only taken it because Morgan had taken his. So in a short space of time Casey had to find alternatives.

"No." he growled as he realised what could have caused his predicament. He had never felt so embarrassed and angry in his whole entire life. He had just talked about his private intimate manly things to Devon Woodcomb and all because of something as stupid as this?!

"Then I would surmise you've had an allergic reaction to either the rubber or type of lube used on that brand of condom."

"Morgan and Chuck are going to die."

Casey seethed, spit hissed through his teeth as he got up from the chair. He winced with pain but that only made his face deepen with an angry red.

"John…this is only based on what you've described. Without actually seeing the reaction on your penis, it is only a guess." Devon shook his head and before Casey could even reply with another threat he took up his pad and scribbled something down on it. "It is a guess, but I think it's a good one. Take this to the chemist and apply this stuff to help with the swelling and other symptoms. It should start to take effect immediately. Dude….I mean….John….don't use that brand of condom again. Stick with what you've always used and you can't go wrong. IF this problem still continues and it's not because of the contraception, don't hesitate to come and see me again."

Casey nodded.

Devon Woodcomb had done his job very well. As the younger man ripped the piece of paper from his pad and handed it to Casey, John actually felt a tiny niggle of remorse at having threatened him and having being so mean. The man was a professional, there was no doubt about it and instead Casey himself had been less than kind in his remarks.

"Thank you, Doctor." he said with a wry smile. He held out his hand towards Devon who took it up and shook it. "I appreciate it."

"That's okay, John."

"I'm sorry that I broke the chair. I'll buy a new one for the surgery."

"There's no need." Devon smiled. "But…John, before you leave can I ask one last question?"

"Sure." Casey replied, wearily.

"Why did you come here? You could have told her about it rather than me and I'm certain she would have helped you with this a lot quicker. Ellie is a doctor after all."

"It's complicated, Devon." he said as he hobbled over to the door. "It's a matter of pride. As I'm sure you're aware of."

The Jock man seemed to understand. There were "men things" that guys didn't want to tell women, even if they did happen to be doctors.

"May I give you some advice before you leave?" asked Devon rather suddenly.

Casey tensed, which was a mistake because the pain stung most viciously and it made him stagger. He didn't want to hear any more advice, but he owed the "dude" the chance to say something.

"I know you can't tell her everything, John." said the young surgeon. "I know all too well why. But I want you to know that Ellie and I didn't break up because I was lousy at keeping secrets about you, Chuck and Sarah. I flunked out big time. You seem to be giving her everything I could not, despite what you do. So I'm just going to say…don't make the same mistakes as me. Okay? Don't let your pride get in the way."

"Finished?" Casey grumbled lowly, with his back turned.

"Just telling it how it is, Colonel. Hope I'm not outta line with that. It's just that Ellie, she is so happy with you, dude."

Casey grunted what Chuck had numbered "Grunt number 54." a gratified and sincere noise mixed with the small hint of a gruff laugh. He then walked out of the little office and carried on down the corridor.

As he walked through the waiting room, John Casey reflected upon Devon's advice, pausing to throw a box of tissues at the teen who had sneezed again (without covering his nose and mouth). The box collided with accuracy at the boy's head and the other patients waiting seemed to appreciate that action. They even applauded Casey as he left.

On the drive back home, the NSA colonel finally realised how stupid he had been.

The discomfort he had put himself through, of sitting in that damned waiting room, of opening up to Devon, it had been all his fault.

For the past few months he and Ellie Bartowski had been in a relationship that had sent his entire world into a dizzying spin. He didn't understand how it had caught him so unaware but John realised what it was.

It was love. He was in love with Ellie and he didn't think it was possible after what happened with Ilsa. He had sworn he would never allow himself to fall like that again but she had upset the balance.

It complicated everything, but after hearing Devon's words he wasn't going to let his duty to his country lose the one good, positive and hopeful thing he had in his life. He wasn't going to let his stupid pride get in the way of what they had.

As he pulled up outside the complex, as he parked and then locked up his beloved Crown Vic, Casey thought of how to end this day in the most perfect way. Ellie was going to know just how much she meant to him.

He snarled and grinned as he saw two figures walking through the archway and into the courtyard.

Chuck and Morgan were also going to pay for what they had done.


End file.
